The Peak
by FujimoriChikaru
Summary: Romano ponders on a few things in the midst of his and Spain's lovemaking.


**Just a little something for a friend's birthday that I hope she likes. And also, please excuse fail title, and the probably-fail ending n.n" That's really all there is to say, aside from the Disclaimer of course, as 'tis but a PWP. I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

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><p><strong>The Peak<strong>

Through the haze of bliss clouding his thoughts, Romano was mildly surprised he hadn't shattered the windows with his screams.

Eyes clenched shut and jaw set, he was deaf to the phone ringing downstairs, the cicadas' chirping, the relentless rapping at the front door, everything - except, as mentioned before, his sharp cries, the low groans and heavy gasps above him, the squeaking of the bedsprings and the repetitive bangs as the headboard hit against the wall with every rough thrust. The tell-tale signs of a cramp in his hands let him know he was gripping too hard, though he was unable to loosen his hold of the sheets he couldn't feel, too focused on the hot breaths over his lips, the perspiration that made his hair stick to his forehead and neck, and the-the-_that _pushing in and out and in and out and in, in, out, _in, _quickly and slowly and vigorously and gently and savagely and _passionately, _to the point where he was left almost breathless and his throat _hurt _from all the noise he'd been making and his body was moving on its own - head thrown back again and again against the sweat-drenched pillows and hips bucking desperately as he was impaled, his legs slipping as they tried to wrap around a sweaty waist. He groaned as he felt himself sliding once more, the very top of his head brushing against the headboard, and, after a particular accurate thrust hitting his prostate dead-on, his back arched and he let loose yet another ear-bleeding screech, louder than all those previous as his curl was harshly pulled once, twice, thrice, a few times more, drawing yelps and moans and grunts of various pitches from swollen and picked lips, the result of anxious bites whilst in the midst of hungry kisses. Even with his eyes shut tight, Romano was all too aware of the gaze fixed upon his undoubtedly red face no matter how hard he wished it away, to focus on some other aspect of his wild and thrashing body - not because he didn't enjoy the attention, oh no, deny it as he might, he could never get quite enough of having those rich green eyes focused on him and him alone - so the other wouldn't see how his vulnerability and absolute _craving _was painted all over his shamelessly wanton expression.

Spain raked his eyes helplessly over the adorably crimson face before him, breath hitching as he pushed deeper, deeper, _deeper _into wet heat and let out a long groan. He didn't dare blink for more than a second, and only then to rid the sweat from his eyes. They had been going at it for god-knows-how-long, and yet he wasn't the least bit tired; on the contrary, he seemed to get more wired up the longer this continued, not that he was complaining, mind you. He rocked even harder, burying himself further within the immeasurable abyss that had his whole body humming with pleasure. Even as he continued on and he felt himself approaching his end, Spain strained to go on longer, hoping for at least a peek of Romano's hazel eyes, impossibly dark with the unmistakable lust he had last seen them open, before he had all but thrown Romano onto his bed. Leaving only one arm propped, the hand of the other cupped the side of Romano's head to stroke his cheek, thumb brushing against fluttering eyelashes refusing to part. His lips turned up at the corners when Romano let out a little whimper at the gesture, and, with a deep breath he leant down and initiated what he had intended to be a gentle kiss, only to be forced to break away from the contact - a hot, wet mouth and an eager tongue relentlessly competing for dominance - at least a minute later, more breathless than before. His brows furrowed and a frustrated noise sounded from his throat when he saw there was no sliver of hazel to be seen. Accepting an unspoken challenge, his rocking evened out into an almost-frantic pace of deep, sharp and accurate thrusts that had Romano reacting even more violently than before: hands letting go of rumpled sheets and instead not-exactly-rested on his shoulders, leaving Spain all too-aware he would wake up to see the marks made by short, blunt nails in the morning; head alternating through a messy pattern of throwing itself back and turning from side to side, teeth clenched - just as shut as once-beckoning eyes - in vain attempts at keeping those _provocative _sounds - needy mewls and moans and broken gasps and, _Dios mio, _even a low growl or two! - at bay that only succeeded in making Spain increase his pace; legs tightening around his hips and _pushing down _with every thrust back into impatiently bucking hips and a greedy entrance that he could almost _feel _sucking him in. His remaining propped arm abandoned its post in favor of cupping the other side of Romano's face as he rested his forehead against the other's. Their breaths hitched, immediately noticing a distinct difference in proximity, and the aroused noises only increased in frequency, as did their rocking.

"R-Romano…" Spain grunted out, voice surprisingly hoarse despite the amount of noise he made paled in comparison to how much Romano had made. "Romano… _por favor… abren tus ojos…" open your eyes. _Spain's brows furrowed again when Romano stubbornly shook his head and let out a little whine. _"Ro…ma…" _He coaxed in between short, much-needed breaths, well aware of how effective his pleading worked on Romano, no matter how much he led Roma to believe otherwise.

When there was no progress made, Spain whimpered pathetically, mentally cheering himself when Roma's eyes reluctantly pried themselves open, blinking away sweat as they sent a half-hearted glare at Spain, only to widen significantly when Spain's efforts and pace doubled. Romano's arms hurriedly wrapped around Spain's neck, closing almost nonexistent distance between them. Noses brushing, they stared into one another's eyes for a moment before lurching into a yearning kiss. Lips smacking, teeth-clicking and the wet slaps of flesh were added to the list of bedroom noises they made.

They maintained eye contact all throughout their amorous kiss, and, cliché as it may sound, though Romano felt the sensations were enhanced with his eyes closed, looking at Spain made it more so. Already-hot cheeks flared with even more heat at the thought, and he felt goosebumps creeping up as Spain's hands slid down his back and took a firm grip on his hips, which were then promptly lifted just a bit, just enough to make a difference.

"_Nngh!"_

A very agreeable difference.

Spain's head ducked and his teeth found a collarbone begging to be branded with love bites. Romano cried out again, shifting his head slightly with an arm still around Spain's neck, the hand of the other failing to disentangle his bangs. His body tensed almost imperceptibly, and he knew he was close.

Absentmindedly, he was still bucking and rolling his hips, still moaning and _not screaming, _but he was also thinking about his and Spain's newfound relationship. It had reached its peak.

After so long, with such an innocent start, it was so odd to think they could come to this stage so abruptly. But, there was a reason the peak was only the highest point and everything went downhill from there, why there was a peak for everything: one can only have so much fortune in any circumstance, and it could only last so long. It was Spain and Romano's first time together - and Romano's first time, period - but, after the pain faded and was replaced by incomparable pleasure, Romano could only compare their lovemaking to climbing a mountain - an especially tall one, since he had prolonged them doing, well, _this_ for so long, not because he didn't want to do _this - _n-not that he _did _want them to! - but because the longer they spent climbing, the longer it would take to descend.

Another rough thrust at his prostate woke Romano from his almost-trance with a wanton moan that immediately made him purse his lips. He blinked up and saw, instead of the ceiling, Spain's worried and tired and still unmistakably lustful expression hovering over him.

"Roma?"

Romano noticed with a start that Spain had stopped his movements, and he was pretty sure that Spain was, uh, _aching _by now, because he sure as hell was, and that alone only served to remind him of a painfully indisputable fact.

Nothing could remain constant forever.

Romano bit at his bottom lip as his arms circled Spain's neck once more and pulled him down, parting his lips without any prompting and coaxed Spain into moving again.

This was enough, for now.

Fervently, Spain reciprocated, and Romano _swore _his thrust weren't nearly that overwhelming and… _fierce_ before.

"S-Spain! Ah -_shit - _Spain! _Spain!"_

Romano suddenly felt smothered by hot flesh and sweat as he was practically pounded into the mattress beneath him, and he couldn't quite catch his breath even as he arched his back and returned to rolling his hips. His fingers were lost in untamed chestnut locks.

"Mm, _Romano~"_

And suddenly, it was too much. Romano cried out as he climaxed, breath still hitching as Spain continued to thrust, panting out, _"Spain. Spain. Spain." _Romano didn't complain when Spain emptied himself inside him, didn't even grunt when Spain nearly squeezed the life out of him in the process, and he didn't object to being cuddled after Spain pulled out and lay down next to him. He just… allowed it with a sort of lazy content.

"Mm, Roma~ That was nice~"

It was.

"We were long overdue for a round of that."

They were.

Spain looked over at Romano, and, after confirming he wouldn't be getting anything out of the usually irate Italy, he shrugged and let out a content sigh, holding the younger nation even tighter to his person.

"What would you like for breakfa-" A quick glance to the clock let Spain know it was far later than he thought, and they, sleeping a more than healthy amount of hours on a regular basis, would not be up anytime forenoon. "for lunch after we wake up?" He asked, and raised a brow at Romano's suspicious, slightly narrowed eyes.

"I always fix breakfast…"

"I'll make Italian food if that's what you want, Roma."

"What's the occasion…?"

"No occasion. Just really happy. Spain claimed, nuzzling his nose with Romano's, who merely slapped a sluggish hand at his shoulder, with a cheery grin.

"Doing… _this… _makes you happy?"

"_You _make me happy, Roma. Everything about you makes me happy. So, _dime, _what do you want for lunch?"

Romano stared blankly at him before shifting just a bit closer, eyes suddenly focused on the loose thread from the pillow case. "Whatever you want is fine." He said, and closed his eyes so Spain would stop pestering him.

As Romano drifted closer and closer to well-deserved slumber, he absently remembered that not all mountains were the standard triangle imitation; some were like multiple hills had united, up and down and up and down, sometimes sharp and sometimes smooth. _Appennini, _he thought. He could live if his and Spain's relationship were like _Monti Appennini._

Spain had to bite down hard on his bottom lip when he saw Romano smile ever-so-slightly in his sleep.


End file.
